A sliver of darkness
by EllaLovesMusicc
Summary: A simple oneshot taking place during 'In the name of the brother' and just after it. A very unhappy Whale, and a Red who knows perfectly well how to handle it.


**A sliver of darkness.**

He watched the dark water anxiously when the small clock fell into its cold arms, to embrace it to a death of its daily run. Would he die if he'd jump?

He watched, he only stood, and watched. His hands clinging onto something in the air that wasn't there, and that would probably never be there. His gaze, however, stayed upon the rather calm darkness.

Nobody really, no-one would miss him. Why would he not jump? By the time they would find his body, it would be too late – because who would go searching for him? He couldn't swim (as far as he knew), so he would be dead in just a few minutes. Not the prettiest death, but better than anything he could think of right now. If only he had his gun, but of course that little friend didn't come with the curse.

He deserved this. This was supposed to be his ending. Unhappy and alone. Because that was what he had left his brother to be. His brother could better be dead, but he hadn't been able bare it to kill him again. It was only now that he knew how his brother must have felt – and he was well aware that he just felt an inch of it. How selfish he had been.

All he wanted was it to be gone. It. Everything. The pain he felt. He had wanted to save people, but now he wasn't sure of it anymore. He couldn't do it anymore, he'd never been able to. What he had done was just inflicting more pain, and he knew that would be the result of whatever kind of life-saving operation he would give the man in the hospital. He couldn't do it anymore.

He pulled out a determined breath, hoping it to be his last.

And then he closed his eyes and jumped. He jumped, feeling the cold breeze through his hair, striking over his skin and make his body shiver.

He didn't touch the darkness. Was he dead already? Did he simply not feel a thing? Had he become that cold?

It was only when he found a hand holding onto his shoulder, keeping him from the dark, that he realised that he wouldn't get to touch the darkness today.

Ruby (or Red, he didn't really know what kind of person either of them was, apart from the fact that he had been hitting on the young waitress more than once because she was pretty) was staring at him in some kind of shock, dragging him onto the stone again.

And that was when he told her his story. For the first time since the curse had been broken, he told someone his story.

Because she listened, she just listened, and even kind of tried to comfort him. Perhaps it wouldn't seem much to an average person, but to him – well, it had been more than anyone had done for him in a long time. Maybe even more than anyone had done for him in a lifetime.

She had saved him, while she didn't have to. While he didn't deserve to be saved.

Two monsters. The difference was that he was alone, while she wouldn't be. She was loved, just like he never would be – never had been.

He didn't really know why he was standing here. It felt wrong on so many levels, like he was creeping up on her. Yet he needed to thank her, didn't he? Even if it would only be a courtesy.

When he realised he had been standing there, just staring, for longer than twenty minutes, he decided to take a deep breath again, and just walk in.

The door made its familiar sound. He had been to this place so many times as Dr. Whale, trying to fill his empty life with even more empty relationships. Trying to be a person he wasn't. Trying to be less lonely.

"Is Ruby – I mean, Red, I mean, I don't know… Is she in?" he asked her grandmother (she had always been known as Granny, he couldn't think of another name she'd ever been called – just like no-one knew his first name wasn't 'Doctor').

She looked upon him with a look of slight contempt (not that strange, judging from how he probably looked right now, and what he feared he smelled like), and then he saw her walking from behind the storage doors. "Granny, did you know that… Oh," she cut off her sentence when she saw him standing in front of her.

"I just wanted to thank you," he said quickly. "That's – that's all."

Her grandmother looked at him as if he was going to rape her granddaughter in front of her, but kept herself quiet.

"No problem," she said, watching him rather astonished.

He nodded to her awkwardly and left. It had been all he had to say, but still it didn't seem enough to feel good about it.

"Dr. Whale!" he suddenly heard behind him. He had just reached the street, and turned around to see Red's kind of anxious face staring upon him.

"Victor," he said, in a soft, breaking voice. "My name is Victor."

"All right," she said, and he noted that this did not help pulling away her worried face. "I just… I just wanted to know if you were OK." It wasn't even a question, but still he answered to it.

"I'm fine, I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"Well, I'm not floating somewhere down in the dark, thanks to you." It was only after he had spoken the words that he realised it had sound rather… well, like he was blaming her.

"You wouldn't be floating anymore by now, it's 9AM, someone would have found you."

"No," he said, curtly.

"Of course," she said.

"No," he said a bit harsher. "Who would have gone looking for _me_? Either about Dr. Whale, the dick-ass hitting on every living soul he can find, or Dr. Frankenstein, responsible for the murder of so many people while trying to bring life, no one would care. And I can't blame them for that – after all, that was why I wanted myself drowning, wouldn't it be?" He saw the effect of the words on her, and didn't know if he was feeling sorry about speaking them aloud. He believed he just felt relieved.

"You think you are alone," she said, her eyes, with the golden crown in it, piercing through him as if she was trying to find whatever it was that was left inside of him.

"I am," he said.

"No," she said. "No, you aren't." She pressed a brief kiss upon his cleft lips. "It's just that neither Dr. Whale, nor Dr. Frankenstein can yet see it. But he will."

"Will he?" he asked, aware of the desperate, kind of dubitable sound in his voice and even more aware of her inner warmth, something stronger than he had ever experienced.

"Yes, he will. Because whatever he might think; he's worth saving."


End file.
